The Alchemist's Touch (6 page)

Ebon looked at Halab. Even her eyes were raised. Cyrus’ smile widened. “That is a powerful bit of transmutation indeed. Not one in ten transmuters can achieve such skill.”

“Powerful indeed,” said Halab. She turned to Ebon with a small smile. “So, my nephew? Are you glad to have seen this place?”

Ebon swallowed and forced a smile onto his face. “Of course, dear Aunt. It is a wonderful sight. Thank you for bringing me here.”

But in truth, he quailed within. His steps seemed to come heavy and hard, and he could scarcely muster the strength to follow as Cyrus led them back inside the Academy. Now he had seen the place his heart had always dreamed of, and knew he would never forget it. Yet his heart did not matter, for he would travel home all the same, back with his parents to Idris, and likely never see the High King’s Seat again.

Something of his mood must have shown in his face, for Halab stopped and turned to him. “Why, what is the matter, Ebon? You do not seem happy. Are you not glad to have come?”

“Oh, I am.” He did not wish to seem ungrateful. “Only…”

She pursed her lips and patted his arm. “I think I understand your mind, dear Nephew. Do not let yourself fall into despair. Not all paths are laid clear before us, and our fate is never set in stone.”

“Of course not,” Ebon mumbled. But her words offered little comfort.

six

WHEN EBON RETURNED, HE LEARNED from Tamen that his parents had at last gained their audience with the High King, and thus had the purpose for their visit fulfilled. So it was that the next morning he was in his room, despondent, while Tamen packed his belongings in preparation for the journey home.

“I am not glad to see you so upset, Ebon.”

“Do you think I am glad to be so upset?” Ebon picked at a loose thread in his pant leg, refusing to look up. “I wish you had seen it, Tamen. It was glorious. I did not know that half the things I saw there were possible.”

“Take heart,” said Tamen. “You have been here once, now, though your father never let you come before. Mayhap he will allow your return.”

Ebon snorted. “Are you so foolish? This was all an elaborate torture. He has brought me here only to show me that from which he has kept me all my life. And my dear aunt—she thought to help me, to cheer me, but she has only increased my pain tenfold.”

“Surely it was worse to know nothing of the Academy.”

“You do not know. You did not see.” Ebon stopped trying to free the loose thread and slouched lower in the chair, letting his head bang against its wooden back. It hurt, but he found it hard to care. “I would give anything to go back there, Tamen. Anything.”

Tamen frowned and shook his head. “Mayhap it is for the best. Not even the very wise can see all ends.”

Outside his window, the sky was bright blue, and white with wispy clouds passing in and out of sight with the wind. Soon that wind would carry Ebon away, across the Great Bay towards home. “I see only one end before me, and it is one I do not wish to face.”

He had a thought and sat up suddenly, nervously eyeing his chamber door. “Tamen…what if I fled?”

Tamen stopped packing his clothes and looked up, placing his hands on his hips. “Fled where, exactly?”

“Away from here. Into the Seat. Surely Father would not waste much time looking for me. I could vanish in the streets, and visit the Academy after they left. Mayhap they would take me, and I could begin my training, late in my life though it is.”

Tamen sighed and placed a hand over his eyes. “Ebon, you know you cannot do that. The Academy charges a steep tuition, and though you may have some coin upon you, you could not pay your way for long. And besides, where do you think your family would look for you? And you know I am honor bound to your father. I would have to tell him what you told me, and his wrath would be terrible once he found you.”

Ebon slumped back in the chair again, pouting. “I should have run, and said nothing to you.”

“You would not have escaped, and you know it.”

Ebon looked away, refusing to answer.

Soon all his things were packed, and Tamen summoned servants to carry them downstairs. Ebon forced himself to his feet and made his way downstairs, moving slowly as though his boots were lead. Tamen walked beside Ebon, not hurrying him. Many crates and bundles were stacked in the manor’s front room, ready to be loaded onto carriages and driven to the docks. It seemed to Ebon that they were leaving with even more than they had arrived with, though he had not seen his parents buy anything new.
 

He made his way out the front door and into the courtyard where he found a surprise: Halab had come to see them off. Mako stood beside her, with the main carriage in the middle of the courtyard, in which he would ride with his parents to the docks. They were there, Shay engaged in some conversation with Halab while Hesta stood quietly nearby. Ebon could not hear the words, but his father looked angry, making many sharp gestures. He stopped once he saw Ebon emerge from the manor, his face going stony. He turned from his sister.

Halab greeted Ebon with a smile. “Good morrow, dear Nephew. Did you rest well?”

“I did, Aunt. It will pain me to leave you, and the days will seem long until again you grace us with your presence.”

“Such manners,” said Halab, going to Ebon and taking his kisses on her cheeks.

“A silver tongue he has indeed,” said Mako, grinning at Ebon over Halab’s shoulder. Ebon tried to still a shiver of unease. His aunt he would miss, but he was glad to be leaving Mako behind.

Halab drew back and looked past Ebon, to where Tamen held a satchel filled with some of his clothing. Her eyes widened, and her full lips parted. She looked back to Ebon. “But my nephew, why does your retainer carry your possessions? You look as if you are making ready to leave.”

Ebon stopped short, brow furrowing. “I am. I had heard our trip here was finished, and we were leaving now.”

“You cannot tell me you thought you were going. Surely your dear parents told you that you are staying?”

At first, Ebon could not put meaning to the words. He looked past Halab to his parents. Father’s face had darkened, his eyes drawn together in a squint, a vein throbbing in his forehead. But Mother had turned her face away from him, and upon her lips Ebon thought he saw a tiny smile trying to burst free.

“I…I do not understand,” he said lamely.

Halab gripped his wrists tighter. “My dear nephew. How plainly must I state it? You will be staying upon the High King’s Seat, to attend the Academy.”

His knees did not seem capable of holding him up, and he grasped for something to steady himself. Tamen took his hand. His other hand tightened on Halab’s arm until he realized he might hurt her, and quickly loosened it. He opened his mouth, but a lump in the back of his throat kept him from speaking.

It seemed that Father had kept his peace as long as he could. He stepped forth angrily, spittle springing from his lips. “If you think the Academy to be some lark, then you are an idiot. You are four years too late. You will look like an infant in a king’s finery. And never will you be a great wizard, as you no doubt dream.”

Ebon choked back angry words, biting his lip to keep them from spilling forth. Halab looked back at her brother, and Ebon saw a cool anger smoldering in her eyes. But when she turned back, they were kind, and she squeezed his arm in reassurance. “The choice is yours, of course. I would never dream of forcing you into such studies, if they are not what your heart truly desires.”

“Show some wisdom for once in your life, and think ahead,” snarled Shay. “What do you think you can still learn, now that you are nearly full-grown?”

Ebon looked at him, and then back to Halab. His first instinct was to shout, with all his joy and fervor, that of course he would stay and attend the Academy. And yet, as they so often did, his father’s words wormed their way into his mind. What
would
it be like at the Academy? One thing was certain: he was here four years later than he should have been, and would certainly feel that deficit if he attended.
 

If?
Finally he realized the foolishness of his thought. He had dreamed of nothing more in all his years. Now that the gift was finally presented, on a silver platter as it were, would he shrink from the offer? He had seen the Academy now, and knew what lay behind its granite walls. And he knew he had never longed for anything so keenly.

“I wish to attend the Academy,” he said, almost shouting. Then he leapt forwards, forgetting all his courtesy, and squeezed Halab in an embrace tight enough to hear the air
whoosh
from her lungs. “And thank you, Aunt. Thank you. This is a gift greater than ever I could have dreamed.” Tears sprang unbidden to his eyes.

“You are welcome, dearest Nephew,” she said, gently patting his back. At last he released her, and she fell a step back. “Now you are under but one obligation: to make your family proud to have sent you. Learn your magic well. Can you do this for us?”

He refused to look at his father, and so kept his eyes on hers. “Yes. I give you my oath.”

“I shall remember it. Now quickly—say your farewells, for you should make your way to the Academy right away. I have sent word to Cyrus already, and they are waiting for you.”

Ebon turned to look at Tamen. His retainer looked befuddled, as though he did not fully understand what had happened. He raised the satchel in his hand, then lowered it again, then looked helplessly back and forth.

“I…I do not know what to say, Ebon.”

“Say only that you are happy for me,” said Ebon in a low voice, holding forth his hand.

Tamen took it, grasping his wrist, and they shook. “Happier than you can know.” His hand came up to grip Ebon’s shoulder. “I am sorry I could not be a better friend to you in the years we have had. Mayhap another time will let me pay that debt.”

Ebon answered Tamen with a smile—then jumped as he heard a door slam behind him. He turned to find the carriage door had shut, with his father inside it. But his mother waited for him by the carriage, arms wide, a pleased smile upon her face. Ebon went to her and took her in his arms, breathing in the familiar smell of her favored perfumes.

“Go and make me proud, my son,” she said, scarcely speaking above a whisper. “I do not weep to see you go, for I know you are ready.”

“Then you know more than I, Mother,” said Ebon. “But Father…”

“Do not concern yourself for him,” she said quickly. “I know you cannot see it, but he, too, knows this is best. And mayhap the distance between you will mend what time never could.”

Ebon doubted that, but forced himself to smile as he gave her a final kiss on the cheek. At last he turned to Halab, who stood there beaming at him. Mako stood just behind her, but Ebon tried to ignore him.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” said Halab. “Go, or they shall mark you tardy on your first day.”

“Do well, little goldbag,” said Mako. Ebon’s skin crawled at his crooked grin. “I know you will be of great service to the family.”

Ebon held a smile for his aunt. But at the last moment, he turned towards the carriage. Its door had a window, and though a curtain was drawn across it, sunlight showed his father’s silhouette. The shadow did not move, even as it grew silent outside the carriage, and the others looked at Ebon expectantly.

Darkness take him, then,
thought Ebon.

“Fare well,” he said, and though Ebon spoke to Halab, he knew his words would carry inside the carriage. “The next time you see me, I shall be a wizard true.”

He turned and left the courtyard, keeping his pace measured until he was out of sight. But the moment he turned his first corner, Ebon burst into a run.

seven

EBON WAS PANTING BY THE time he reached the Academy. He doubled over to catch his breath. Perspiration soaked through the back of his tunic, and he regretted his flight through the streets. He did not wish to appear for his first day stinking with sweat. But it was too late for such worries. He stepped forwards and rapped his knuckles sharply on the door.

The response was immediate, and he cringed at the sharp cry of the door’s hatch sliding open. There was the old woman, Mellie, her ghostlike eyes glaring out at him. She screamed, “The Drayden!” before he could open his mouth. Then she slammed the hatch shut. Ebon glanced over his shoulder. He had no wish for people to know his family name, if he could help it.

The door clanged open, and Mellie invited him inside with a sharp wave. She seized his wrist as he crossed the threshold, her fingers bony and frigid, but surprisingly gentle as she drew him up the great staircase dominating the hall. The door slammed shut with a heavy thud behind them.

I am in the Academy now
.
 

It was a giddy prospect, and he fought the urge to burst out laughing.

Mellie took the stairs quickly, despite her age, and at the top she whisked him off to the right, stopping at the first room they encountered. Within were many shelves, running from floor to ceiling and covering every wall, all filled with folded black robes. Mellie ran along the shelves, brushing each one with her fingers as though she could see them by touch, glancing back often at Ebon.

“How tall do you stand?” she snapped.

“I—just under ten hands,” he said, squaring his shoulders. How did the Academy manage with such a madwoman serving for their chief attendant?

“Hah! I will give my good eye if you are above nine.” She scooped clothes from a shelf and threw them into his arms. He tried to catch them, but they came unfolded anyway, and one fell to the ground. He barely had a chance to scoop it up before Mellie had snatched his arm and drawn him out of the room again, screaming at him to
Hurry! Hurry!

They did not have far to go; she took him across the hall, where he found a simple brick room and a large bronze tub. It was filled with water, and steam rose languidly from its surface.

“Clean yourself,” said Mellie, thrusting a gnarled finger at the tub.

Ebon shook his head. “I bathed just last night.”

Mellie glowered at him and said nothing, still thrusting her finger at the tub.